iBlame It On The Beat
by Mac-alicious
Summary: "Oh when I act crazy, blame it on the beat" - Carly, Sam and Freddie go to a night club and the music has a strange effect on Carly. Creddie. One shot.


**A/N: **So, I think I'm getting back on track with typing and updating regularly. At least for the moment, while I have a few things written already. Anyway, this is my newest Creddie oneshot. It's inspired by the song "Blame it on the Beat" by Ashley Tisdale, and the italic lyrics at the beginning and end are from the song. I would say this is set toward the end of high school, probably senior year. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! –Mac

**Disclaimer: **I don't own iCarly or the lyrics to "Blame it on the Beat"

******iBlame It On The Beat**

"_Usually I'm miss pretty please, I'm nice then pray down on my knees, never get too hot or act too cold, I'm the poster girl for self control._

_Usually I'm perfectly behaved, never give you reason to complain, then I hear the pounding of this track, start to move round like a maniac."_

The first time they use their fake IDs, Carly is absolutely terrified. She goes over every worst case scenario and most of them end with Sam making someone bleed and all three of them behind bars. She really, really does not want to go to jail. That would be very, very bad. She breaks into a sweat with ten feet of line left. She starts to turn around to run in the opposite direction of the entrance to the club, but Sam and Freddie catch her on each side to prevent her from moving. She gives up on struggling and they set her back on her feet. As her feet meet the ground, she teeters on her too high, high heels. Freddie wraps an arm around her waist to steady her and she leans into him.

"Thanks," Carly murmurs.

"No problem," Freddie shoots back with a smile.

"Lines moving," Sam interrupted.

The three make it to the front and hand over their IDs. The man eyes their IDs and then studies their faces intently. The bouncer guy has the thickest muscles Carly has ever seen up close. She swallows hard as he once again looks back and forth between their IDs and their faces. The man has a look on his face that says either he can't tell if they're really twenty-one or he's trying to figure out where he recognizes them from. Whatever he is trying to do, he gives up after a moment. He hands them back their IDs and gestures them toward the door. Carly breathes a sigh of relief as she follows Sam into the club. She isn't sure they're completely off the hook yet, but they're past the beefy doorman who scares the bejeezes out of her, so that has to be a good thing.

"Can you spot me the cover fee?" Sam asked as they stepped inside.

Carly rolls her eyes, "You're lucky I brought some extra money in case you pulled something like this."

"I say you refuse to pay for her, get her kicked out," Freddie replies with a small smirk. "Maybe that'll teach her a lesson."

"But then she would be stuck here alone with you Fredward," Sam reaches around Carly to smack Freddie across the back of the head. He winces, sending her a glare, and she just laughs, "and you wouldn't want that, now would you, Carls?"

Carly sighs, "Leave Freddie alone Sam. I'll pay for your cover charge, but you're on your own when it comes to drinks."

Sam grins mischievously, "Mama ain't gonna have any problem getting drinks."

Freddie cringes, "Am I the only one picturing foul images of what she's going to do to get free drinks?"

"Yes," Sam answers.

"Not anymore," Carly says at the same time, while making a face similar to Freddie's.

"Just pay the man," Sam replies.

"Alright, alright," Carly steps forward to pay.

Once they have paid and have their neon colored wristbands securely on their wrists they venture further into the club. The pounding beat of the music hits them and they can feel its pulse under their skin. Carly curls her fingers to feel the vibration at her fingertips. Sam says something about heading for the bar before pushing through the mass of people. Carly looks up to watch Sam's blonde hair disappear into the crowd. She shakes her head and turns to Freddie. He shrugs and heads in the opposite direction of their other friend. After a moment of indecision, Carly follows him. Together they find a small unoccupied table.

As she sits and watches the people on the dance floor, Carly can barely sit still. Her body begins to follow the beat naturally. Her foot is tapping perfect time and she is slightly swaying with the music. She can't stop herself and it scares her just a little more than the ginormous bouncer guy out front. She is losing control of herself, limb by limb—and she _never_ loses control if she can help it. She knows how to keep herself in check because she has to. Sam has always been out of control enough for the three of them. Carly is the nice one, the well behaved one, the one with all the self control—but right now, she wants to go wild and be free. She has to stop herself from bobbing straight out of her seat. Freddie is eyeing her with an oddly intense curiosity, but she barely notices. Her focus is on the roaring of the music in her ears and the tingles running through her arms and legs as her body begs her to move.

So, when a moderately cute guy asks her to dance, she ignores Freddie's look of disapproval and accepts. She takes the guy's hand and lets him lead her toward the dance floor. They weave through the crowd until they're right in the thick of it. Once they find a place, she surrenders her body to the music and begins to move. She twists her hips along with the beat, closes her eyes and feels the power of the rhythm coursing through her veins. She is unaware of what the guy is doing until his hands find her waist and he pulls her flush against his body. He matches her body movement for movement. The tension seeps out of her body. She feels loose and alive and free. The guy lets her have control, so she lets her body go wild. There is something about the music, something about the atmosphere that brings out a side of her that no one, not ever _she_, knew existed.

The song ends and the guy offers to buy her a drink. She nods her approval and he leads her to the bar. She gives herself a moment to breathe as he leans over the bar to order their drinks. She glances down the length of the bar, picking out Sam's familiar face near the end. The blonde has three or four guys surrounding her, all with drinks in hand. Sam meets Carly's eyes and sends her a smirk and a wink before turning back to her group of admirers. Carly shakes her head and smiles to herself. The guy she is with turns around and hands her a drink. She isn't sure what it is, but it's kind of blue and there's a nice little umbrella sticking out of the top, so she isn't alarmed. She takes a few sips and is surprised by the sweet flavor masking the taste of the alcohol. She continues to sip on the drink as the guy leads her over to an open table. He tries to strike up a conversation while their cups gradually empty, but she can feel the music vibrating through the table. All she wants to do is get up and dance again. She lays her hand flat, palm down, on the table and closes her eyes. She lets the pulse filter through her skin and it leaves her tingling. The guy is asking her for her number but she hardly hears him.

"I wanna dance," Carly murmurs, slipping out of her seat. "Let's go dance again."

Leaving the table, she isn't sure the guy is following until he takes a few long strides forward and takes her hand so he doesn't lose her in the crowd. Carly guides him out to the dance floor until the crowd presses in on all sides. She starts to dance once she frees her hand from the guy's grip. She turns her body to the beat, letting the music flow through her. She waits for the guy to pull her close again, but he never does. She spies him out of the corner of her eye. He is watching her with no intention of moving closer, but the pure need she feels to move overweighs any disappointment she feels when the guy eventually walks away. She dances alone for awhile before a new guy comes up behind her, this one all blonde hair and blue eyes. He introduces himself but she can't hear him over the volume of the music. She just nods when his lips stop moving. Then she drapes her arms over his shoulders and begins to move against him. Blondie's hands find her hips and he grips them tight as he forces her closer. She hooks her leg over his, using his body as a support as she continues to grind against him. Her entire body is on fire with the sensation of the music and the warm body pressed against her.

The guys she dances with don't last long, when they realize they aren't going to get anything more from her than a dance, so she changes partners almost as many times as the DJ changes the songs. She doesn't care. She just wants to move, feel the beat course through every inch of her body. She knows in the back of her mind that she needs to reign herself in, but she can't. The nice girl who always kept at least a foot of distance between herself and her dance partners is long gone—she couldn't survive in a place like this. This new Carly doesn't mind being groped or grinded on, and she'll press so close to her dance partner of the moment until she isn't sure where she ends and he begins, as long as she can dance in time with the pounding pulse of the music.

She loses track of how many different guys she's danced with. Her heart is pounding, and she's breathing hard—she hasn't taken a break since drinking that blue drink the first guy had bought her. In the midst of her thoughts, she loses track of the mohawked guy she was dancing with last. Her head is spinning slightly and her vision isn't crystal clear anymore. The song changes to a slower number and when she twirls around she lands right in someone's arms. She blinks her eyes to clear away the haze and she focuses on the figure in front of her. Freddie is staring down at her with the strangest expression she has ever seen on his face. She tries to clear her mind so she can decipher what he means by the way he is looking at her, but her body is itching to move again so she gives up on trying. She lets her arms wrap around Freddie's neck, bringing herself close to his body. She begins to sway, sliding her body along his.

Carly realizes that while he is moving with her, his eyes are boring into the top of her head. He's still staring down at her and she isn't sure what he wants. She begins to tire of avoiding his eyes, so she untangles herself from his arms and turns her back to him. She lets him pull her back against him, but she stares straight forward as she moves. His hands wander from the safe place on her hips, sliding down the outsides of her thighs. For a moment, she is lost in the feel of it—the feel of his fingers through the fabric of her dress over the sensitive skin—but when he begins to play with the hem of her dress and his knuckles brush her bare skin her eyes snap open. It hits her full on that she is dancing this way with Freddie. It scares her that this new Carly, which came to life in this club, doesn't care that her best friend is touching her in this way. At the same time, it dawns on her that she isn't the only one who has been affected by the pounding beat and uninhibited atmosphere.

Carly turns back around to face Freddie and at last meets his eyes. Her body instantly warms at the intensity in his eyes she can no longer draw her gaze away. All thoughts of walking away leave her mind. She wraps her arms around his neck again and angles her head up so she can keep her eyes locked on his. She's still not sure what he wants so intensely, until his arms slide around her waist and gently guide her back flush against him. He sprawls his fingers across her lower back, keeping her pressed against him. The song ends, but he doesn't let her go. Her breaths begin to come in shallow pants as he stops moving to the music. He is leaning forward and now she is almost certain she knows what he wants.

They are interrupted, before he reaches her, by a loud commotion at the bar that can be heard in the lull between the changing tracks. Still wrapped around each other, they both turn to observe the cause of the disruption. Carly gasps as she sees Sam climbing up to stand on the bar. The sound of broken glass can be heard as Sam's clumsy movements knock glasses and bottles over the edge of the bar. Catcalls and whistles erupt amongst the men watching her dance. The music cuts out all together and Carly blinks once then twice before finally breaking free of the strange hold it had over her. She darts out of Freddie's grip in the direction of her other, obviously drunk, friend. She arrives in front of Sam at the same time as the burly bouncer man. The Muscleman rather unceremoniously yanks Sam down off the bar and begins to guide her to the door. Carly follows on his heels, listening to Sam's babbling comments. The men, that were gathered around to watch the show, groan in disappointment and part to let them by.

"Hey! You have big muscles, man," Sam exclaims, "You must eat a lot of red meat. Do you like ribs? I love ribs. Do you have any fried chicken? I could go for some fried chicken."

The bouncer heaves Sam out of the door of the club, putting her on her feet on the sidewalk outside. Carly slips up beside Sam, catching her friend's arm so she won't fall. Sam hiccups and waves her hand giddily as the bouncer guy walks away. Carly feels obligated to squeak out an "I'm sorry." A few moments later, Freddie pushes out of the club to join them on the sidewalk. He takes in the sight of Carly trying to support all of Sam's weight, while Sam teeters on her heels as she plays with Carly's hair. Carly blows out a puff of air in an attempt to dislodge the hair that has fallen in her face. Freddie struggles to hold back a laugh.

"Ready to go home?" Freddie raises an eyebrow.

Carly glares at him from behind a curtain of hair that Sam has dropped in her face. "Ya think?"

"Where we goin?" Sam mumbles, her breath hot on Carly's ear.

Carly shifts, crinkling her nose at the strong sent of alcohol on Sam's breath, "_We_ are taking _you_ to bed."

"Whoa, Carls. If you're flying the rainbow flag at the Pride Parade, that's cool. Whatever tickles your peach. But Mama don't swing that way," Sam throws her hands up, causing both her and Carly to wobble off balance.

Freddie rushes forward to help steady them, "Sam, I'm pretty sure that's _not_ what Carly meant."

"Don't be jealous, Fred weird," Sam snaps, "Just cause I can score hotter babes than you."

Carly rolls her eyes, "Okay, I think it's time to go home."

"Will there be pie there?" Sam asks as the three begin to walk away from the club.

"Yes, Sam, there will be pie," Carly answers.

Carly walks into the iCarly studio some time later after Sam has been safely tucked into Carly's bed. Freddie had disappeared into the studio while Carly carted Sam the rest of the way into her bedroom. Carly finds Freddie fiddling with the light setup for the next iCarly episode. His back is to her, so she doesn't announce her arrival. She just watches him curiously as she tries to piece together what had happened between herself and her best friend out on the dance floor. She is pretty sure he is unaware of her presence until he speaks.

"You know, she's gonna be mad that you lied about there being pie."

Carly laughs lightly as Freddie turns to look at her, "As drunk as she was, I doubt she'll remember anything about tonight."

"Oh, she'll remember the pie, If nothing else, she'll remember the pie." Freddie shakes his head as he puts down his tools and moves to face Carly completely. "It's _Sam_. She has an unnatural memory when it comes to food…and minimum sentences for criminal acts."

"True," Carly agrees. She falls silent for a long moment before saying, "About tonight, I don't know what came over me. I can't explain it."

"Are you saying you weren't aware of what you were doing?" Freddie questions.

"No, I was aware. I wanted to do everything I did…" Carly trails off.

"Then what's the problem?" Freddie raises an eyebrow.

"The problem is I felt possessed. I don't know by what, but I couldn't stop myself. I was alert, I knew what I was doing, and I wanted to do it so much…but I can't explain _why_. Why I was doing what I was doing, why I wanted it so much." Carly explains, "With you…it should have mattered that you were my best friend, whom I never wanted something like that with before, but in that moment it didn't. And I can't figure out why."

Freddie picks up Sam's blue remote and takes a step closer to Carly, "Well, why don't we recreate that moment. Maybe if we try it again, we'll be able to figure out why we want to."

Freddie presses one of the buttons on the remote and instantly the studio is filled with the pulsing beat of music. As the feel of the music begins to trickle through her body, she lifts her eyes to meet Freddie's. A smirk works itself across her lips, and for the second time in the night, she throws off her inhibitions.

"_But now I'm making noise (like I never do), and dancing with the boys (maybe even you). As soon as my body hears that rhythm, something starts happening to my system. I'm moving my feet like the floor's on fire, screaming to my girl yeah let's get wild. Setting off a chain reaction, forgive me I can't stop dancing. Oh blame it on the beat. Oh don't blame it on me. Oh when I act crazy, blame it on the beat_."


End file.
